Rose glanced after her.  Then she ran up to Maggie Oliphant, who was preparing to leave the little theater.

“Don’t you want to see the auction?” she said in a gay voice.  “It’s going to be the best fun we have had for many a long day.”

Maggie turned and looked at her.

“The auction?  What auction do you mean?” she asked.

“Why, Polly Singleton’s, of course.  You’ve not heard of it?  It’s the event of the term!”

Maggie laughed.

“You must be talking nonsense, Rose,” she said.  “An auction at St. Benet’s!  A real auction?  Impossible!”

“No, it’s not impossible.  It’s true.  Polly owes for a lot of things, and she’s going to pay for them in that way.  Did you not get a notice?  Polly declared she would send one without fail to every girl in the college.”

“Now I remember,” said Miss Oliphant, laughing.  “I got an extraordinary type-written production.  I regarded it as a hoax and consigned it to the wastepaper basket.”

“But it wasn’t a hoax; it was true.  Come away, Miss Oliphant, do.  Polly has got some lovely things.”

“I don’t think I even know who Polly is,” said Maggie.  “She surely is not an inmate of Heath Hall?”

“No, no—­ of Katharine Hall.  You must know her by sight, at least.  A great big, fat girl, with red hair and freckles.”

“Yes, now I remember.  I think she has rather a pleasant face.”

“Oh, do you really?  Isn’t she awfully common and vulgar-looking?”

“Common and vulgar-looking people are often pleasant, nevertheless,” retorted Maggie.

“You’ll come to her auction?” insisted Rose.

“I don’t know.  She has no right to have an auction.  Such a proceeding would give great displeasure to our principals.”

“How can you tell that?  There never was an auction at the college before.”

“How can I tell, Rose?  Instinct is my guide in a matter of this sort.”

Maggie stepped back and looked haughty.

“Well,” said Rose, “the principals won’t ever know; we are taking good care of that.”

“Oh!  I hope you may be successful.  Good night.”

Maggie turned to walk away.  She saw Priscilla standing not far off.

“Come, Prissie,” she said affectionately, “you did admirably to-night, but you must have another lesson.  You missed two of the best points in that last speech.  Come back with me into the theater at once.”

Rose bit her lips with vexation.  She was wildly anxious to be at the auction.  The sealskin might be put up for sale, and she not present.  The corals might go to some other happy girl; but she had made a resolve to bring some of the very best girls in the college to this scene of rioting.  Her reckless companions had dared her to do this, and she felt what she called “her honor” at stake.  Nancy Banister had declined her invitation with decision; Constance Field had withered her with a look.  Now she must secure Maggie.